Dressed in Spain
by SamCyberCat
Summary: Ryo and Fubuki are on holiday and therefore bicker about the sorts of things people on holiday always bicker about. But Ryo’s not going to wear one of those stupid shirts, he knows that much. Ryo/Fubuki.


Notes – For the gx_100. Set post-GX, but could pretty much be at any point after season two when the two have time to go away. But seeing as how little space of time that leaves let's just say post-GX.

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"Do you speak Japanese? …Or English? At this point it doesn't really matter, I could understand you either way," Fubuki asked the coach driver, who just looked blank and started to mutter something neither of them understood in a language that wasn't Japanese or English.

Once he'd finished, Fubuki said in a deliberately slower and louder tone, "Do… You… Speak… Japanese!"

Now it was the man's turn to start yelling, though his shouts were much faster than the younger boy's. Before it became a blazing argument of foreign tongues Ryo took hold of Fubuki's sleeve and pulled him off the coach. The door darted shut and the coach was driven away quickly.

A moment of reflection. Then…

"Why would he speak Japanese or English? We're in Spain," Ryo pointed out.

"Well they get a lot of tourists from England," Fubuki said, shrugging, "You'd think someone in the tourist industry would know how to speak it at least."

What Ryo thought was that all the man wanted to do was drive his bus from point A to point B without having snobby teenagers raise their voices at him in a different language. That was the typical holidaymaker attitude – go to another country and expect everyone there to understand you. If that were the case then everyone would have to learn an awful lot more languages than they did.

"Shouldn't have put the phrase book down before we left the airport," sighed Fubuki, starting to walk the path instead of waiting for another bus.

"Oh yes, it really came in handy when you told that person 'I am a toilet'," smirked Ryo, not able to help himself.

"He should have known I was trying to asked where it was!" shot Fubuki, and then trying to find something on Ryo he could criticize, added, "At least I'm dressed right."

A grunt. It was a subject Ryo was still being stubborn on. The fact was that Fubuki's Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals for once in their existence managed to look as if they belonged. They were ideal to keep you cool as you tromped down the dry, warm streets of Spain. Ryo's leather on the other hand left him feeling too hot and sticky, though it would take a lot more miles of walking for him to admit that. Instead he made do with exposing as little skin to the sun as possible, as he always had.

"It can't be the far to the hotel, it's just outside of the city," assured Fubuki, just for the sake of having something to talk about as they walked, "In the meanwhile we should grab some ice cream and just enjoy it."

"Do you see an ice cream vender?" asked Ryo, resisting the urge to fan himself as Fubuki turned around to check.

"I see some white houses, some trees, a lot of earth, some more white houses, I think that was a bird… Ryo, you really did pick the most middle-of-nowhere part of Spain for us to visit, we're not even anywhere near the ocean!" Fubuki huffed.

"There's a swimming pool in the hotel," assured Ryo, the sort of person who always found as much out about a hotel as he could before going there.

"Good! The first thing I'm going to do when we get there is jump right in it, with or without clothes," the other insisted.

Trying to shake off the mental image of Fubuki diving into a swimming pool naked, Ryo said, "At least come up to the room long enough to get changed into your trunks first."

"No promises."

As they walked Fubuki started to lag behind a little. He'd used up all of his energy because whenever a small lizard went across the path he'd try to take a photo of it, but moved so quickly that the creature was scared off before he could manage. After about the eighth time Ryo was starting to wonder if the lizards were just doing it to annoy him.

He couldn't see the hotel ahead but he knew they were on the right track. The map was one thing that hadn't been lost yet. He was trying to estimate the length of journey in his head when he felt a hand on either one of his shoulders.

Freezing for a moment then turning around, he was faced with Fubuki already half way through pulling his jacket off.

"Come on Ryo, it's obvious you're sweating and the least you can do is get rid of this for now. It's not as if anyone's going to notice except me," Fubuki told him, stuffing the jacket into one of the suitcases-on-wheels.

It didn't help much, Ryo was still wearing his arm length top after all, but he really did feel a lot better for it.

"You should take your shirt off too," Fubuki commented, grinning. He'd ruined the moment.

A sharp glare told him the answer to that.

Still too amused with this to drop it yet, Fubuki went on, "It's your own fault for not wanting to wear a sensible Hawaiian shirt like I am."

"The Chimeratech Fortress Dragon would fly before I wore a shirt like that," Ryo answered.

"Well I hope it learns soon because I packed some for you to wear at the hotel," Fubuki cheerfully informed, "They're just your colour too."

"Hawaiian shirts come in black now?"

"Don't be daft! It's blue and white."

"It can stay packed then."

Shaking his head, Fubuki carried on walking. He went for half a minute before he realised Ryo was not following him. Turning around to make sure he hadn't collapsed in the heat he was faced with Ryo struggling out of his shirt.

Fubuki gawped as Ryo's chest was exposed to the sun.

"But you just said… what?" he stuttered.

"I said I wasn't wearing one of your shirts, I didn't say I'd be wearing my own all holiday," said Ryo, not wanting to admit his defeat.

Ryo being topless was one thing Fubuki couldn't argue with. As the two of them walked on ahead in much better spirits as Fubuki mused, if he didn't attempt to get Ryo to agree to doing it, he could probably get away with helping him apply sun block to himself as well.


End file.
